


Little Boy Blue

by animehead



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animehead/pseuds/animehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John’s an innocent dude, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Boy Blue

You watch him, sitting there, hands folded in his lap, cheerful grin on his face— the picture of innocence. Only you know for a fact that’s some total bullshit. John Egbert is a lot of things, but innocent isn’t one of them. 

“Hey,” you say and he looks up at you, blue eyes twinkling behind corrective lenses, not those fucking useless hipster ones that people wear, the real fucked up vision deal. You’ve tried his glasses on before, plucked them right off his face and slid them onto yours. Fucking kid might as well be blind. 

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating a little bit. 

“Yeah?” 

“C’mere for a sec.”

“‘Kay.” 

He hops up from the couch, wide, curious eyes focused on you as you sit on the floor with your legs stretched out in front of you. You shake your head because you really can’t deal with this kid. He honestly looks like he’s about to climb in the back of van with no windows for a handful of Starburst. 

“What’s up?” He asks when he reaches you, his feet—covered in bright yellow sneakers—planted on the floor next to your thigh. 

You pull your shirt off, mindful off your trademark shades that you really should take off because you’re at home, but fuck it. You’ve had them on for this long, you might as well keep them on. 

“I need you to walk on my back.”

“Really?” He answers with a smile so sweet that you can actually feel your pancreas slow down its insulin production. 

“What the hell you grinnin’ like that for?” You toss your shirt at his face and flip over, stretching out on the floor below you. “Alright. Go for it,” you say and you immediately feel the bottom of Egbert’s shoe against your skin. “Take off your fuckin’ shoes.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, but you can still tell how nervous he is. You really need to stop fucking with him like this. 

_But you can’t help yourself._

Once again, you feel his foot pressed against your back, but this time it’s the soft, comforting feel of cotton and not the scratch of textured rubber. You grunt when when you feel pressure in the center of your back as he balances himself long enough to add his other foot. You don’t give him any direction, just lie there while he moves up and down, the curve of his heel digging into stiff muscles and his toes slightly tickling the skin along your shoulder blade. 

“You’re pretty good at this, kid.”

“I give good massages too,” he says. “I’m great with my hands. When I was a kid, I built our dog house back home almost all by myself.”

“You’re still a kid,” you correct him.

“Not really,” he counters. “I’m like, practically an adult now. I mean,” he begins and digs his heel into your left shoulder. “Obviously I’m not as old as dad or anything, or you for that matter. I don’t have gray hairs and stuff.”

You flip over without warning him just in time to catch his eyes go wide as he falls to the floor on his ass, the thump loud and hard enough to knock a picture frame of one of your smuppets who met its demise thanks to Dave tossing it out the window and the neighbors mutant dog tearing it apart.

“Ow,” he groans, attempting to sit up straight. “That hurt, you big—”

You grab his ankle and pull forward, dragging him toward you much like that beast dragged your beloved smuppet. “Gray hair,” you repeat. You pull off your hat and fling it onto the couch a few feet behind you. “This look like gray hair to you?”

“Well, I didn’t mean that—”

But you silence him when you use your free hand to yank open your pants, thankful for your fingerless gloves, which makes things a lot easier for you. Egbert’s already blushing by the time you have your pants open. You slip your fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear and tug down, giving him a pretty fucking decent view of your pubes. 

“That look like gray hair to you?”

John shakes his head and you have enough willpower to release his ankle. 

Though being proud of your stellar willpower is pretty fucking pointless when you opt for flipping your positions and grab his wrist instead. You keep him in place between your  thighs, your legs wrapped around his knees and resting against his calves in case he tries to escape, which, after doing this enough, you know he won’t. 

He pulls away from your grip on his wrist, but only to unfasten his own pants. He’s pretty strong for a dork of a kid and you quietly admit to yourself that you’re impressed. He gets his pants open and shoves them down, his cock hard and just as eager as he is. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and help you lower your pants and boxer briefs, grunting and cursing when you have to raise your hips a little to wiggle out of them. 

“So you’re in control today?” You ask him, your voice cool and taunting. 

He looks up at you, determination in his eyes, but he still looks so innocent that you can’t do much but chuckle at him. 

“Screw you,” he says and grasps both your cocks, gliding them together. You hold back a groan, but he lets his out and rocks his hips forward gently. His hand still gripping both your dicks awkwardly while you lie back trying to decide how much of this is hot and how much of it is hilarious. 

Eventually he gives up the awkward hip thrusting and settles for just jerking you both off even though his hand isn’t quite big enough to evenly hold both of your cocks. But he wants to be in control, so you let him. 

_You do wish you’d grabbed some lube though._

Not that you don’t appreciate the friction, but you’re starting to think you and Egbert are about to cause another Great Texas Fire if you keep this up. That is, until Egbert releases both of your cocks to spit in his palm. It doesn’t do much good, but fuck if seeing that cute motherfucker do something like that isn’t enough to make you care a little bit less. 

Egbert’s panting now, gasping and stroking both your cocks. He’s pretty much focused on watching his cock pressed against yours, dripping and slick with pre-cum, he still looks up to occasionally steal glances at you. You catch his eye on the last glance and pucker your lips, kissing the air, wanting to tease him… and he  _cums_. 

_You weren’t expecting that._

But the way his voice cracks when he cries out and the look on his face, the way his shoulders tense and his hips jerk violently, spilling his cum against your cock, warm and thick and rolling down your dick in a way that’s much less amusing than it is erotic and you have to bite down on your fist to keep from moaning his name. 

_Be cool, Strider._

Egbert looks exhausted, but he still leans down and glides his tongue along the head of your cock, the tip of his tongue darting out, dragging along the slit, tasting his own cum and not expecting yours when you curse and grab his hair before christening him with an accidental facial that you’re not really all that sorry about. 

“Fuck…” You groan and crack one eye open at him to see your cum all over his face, clinging to his hair and hanging from his glasses. “Shit… sorry.” 

But he just chuckles and grins at you and you silently curse yourself for getting involved with a barely legal—okay, technically he’s still a minor, but fuck, whatever—wolf in sheep’s clothing. 


End file.
